e young Bishop of Arras, Granvelle, with a
message to Henry which he knew would have the effect desired. The King of
England was again to be urged formally but insincerely to advance and join
the Emperor, but if he would not the Emperor must make peace, always
providing that the English claims were satisfactorily settled.
Arras arrived in the English camp on the 11th September. He found Henry in
his most vaunting mood; for only three days before the ancient tower on
the harbour side opposite Boulogne had been captured by his men.[254] He
could not move forward, he said; it was too late in the season to begin a
new campaign, and he was only bound by the treaty to keep the field four
months in a year. If the Emperor was in a fix, that was his look-out. The
terms, moreover, suggested for the peace between his ally and France were
out of the question, especially the clause about English claims. The
French had already offered him much better conditions than those. Arras
pushed his point. The Emperor must know definitely, he urged, whether the
King of England would make peace or not, as affairs could not be left
pending. Then Henry lost his temper, as the clever imperial ministers knew
he would do, and blurted out in a rage: "Let the Emperor make peace for
himself if he likes, but nothing must be done to prejudice my claims." It
was enough for the purpose desired, for in good truth the Emperor had
already agreed with the French, and Arras posted back to his master with
Henry's hasty words giving permission for him to make a separate peace. In
vain for the next two years Henry strove to unsay, to palliate, to
disclaim these words. Quarrels, bursts of violent passion, incoherent
rage, indignant denials, were all of no avail; the words were said, and
vouched for by those who heard them; and Charles hurriedly ratified the
peace already practically made with France on terms that surprised the
world, and made Henry wild with indignation.
The Emperor, victor though he was, in appearance gave away everything. His
daughter or niece was to marry Orleans, with Milan or Flanders as a dowry;
Savoy was to be restored to the Duke, and the French were to join the
Emperor in alliance against the Turk. None knew yet--though Henry may have
suspected it--that behind the public treaty there was a secret compact by
which the two Catholic sovereigns agreed to concentrate their joint powers
and extirpate a greater enemy than the Turk, namely, the r
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